Friday, September 28, 2007

Great news everyone! Rickey just received an email from the Mets (entitled: "Flushing Flash!") concerning an exciting postseason ticket opportunity. While Rickey wasn’t selected to bid on tickets for the National League Championship Series at Shea Stadium, Rickey’s name will still be automatically entered in the drawing for potential World Series games at Shea! So, uh, we’ve got that going for us.

And now it is officially safe to say it: Rickey picked the wrong week to stop smoking. By discovering new and creative ways to lose games, the Mets have not been kind to anyone’s nerves. To make matters worse, Rickey is fairly certain that he cursed. Let’s look at the facts behind the two recent baseball games Rickey has attended. The September 15th Mets game Rickey attended was the start of the Mets current downward spiral. And the one Yanks game Rickey begrudgingly attended this year marked the beginning of the Yankee playoff push. We’re not the superstitious types, but this is some legitimately freaky stuff.

Why is all this happening you may ask? Pardon us while we take a leap into the realm of wild speculation. You see, there’s a strong possibility that this is all due to Rickey’s beard. For those not in the know, a “playoff beard” is a form of facial hair that is generally grown by sports fans once their team’s postseason commences (in this case, the baseball playoffs). Rickey, in an act of wild hubris decided to grow his beard in August—a whopping two months before the start of the postseason. And while Rickey’s beard was never really intended to be a playoff beard, obviously the baseball gods chose to ignore that detail and punish Rickey’s team accordingly.

So go ahead, blame all this on Rickey’s beard and the whims of the baseball gods. Because really, it’s a hell of a lot less aggravating/depressing than analyzing the clusterfuck beguiling liability that is the 2007 Mets bullpen. Or wondering which member of the coaching staff might take the fall for this debacle (we suggest you look no further than Rick Peterson). Rickey will be procuring a large bottle of Jack Daniels in preparation for tonight's game against the Marlins. In fact, Rickey has no plans to be sober this entire weekend, as well as Monday, should a one game playoff in Philadelphia occur. In the meantime, all you suffering Mets fans really need to read this. Now. It's simultaneously brilliant and cathartic, and the best Mets article Rickey has read online all year. Well done Toasty.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Let’s talk about this newfangled Halo thing that has consumed Rickey’s life. We’ll skip over the single player campaign portion of the game because that’s really just your run of the mill space opera, complete with bombastic music, cheesy dialogue, and an unnecessarily convoluted plot. Like a Jerry Bruckheimer or Michael Bay production, it’s a guilty pleasure for those willing to check their intelligence at the door. But let us skip ahead to the meat of the game: the sublime multiplayer experience. Perhaps sublime isn’t the best word to describe it, but it’s better than Rickey’s original choice, “awesomely awesome.”

Rickey will explain the basic premise of the online experience in layman’s terms: You are in the future. You are provided with a variety of weapons and vehicles. Shit gets blown the fuck up. You get blown the fuck up. Things that get blown the fuck up are once again blown the fuck up. Wash, rinse, repeat. Granted, it’s not the most original game on the market, but we guarantee that playing it will make you grin. It executes everything with such a level of pizzazz that you’ll find yourself totally willing to forgive it’s derivativeness.

How much pizzazz you ask? Well the physics that govern the world you roam around are fantastic and the graphics are also top notch, but it’s the freedom you’re given that is the game’s best attribute.

Look at the picture above—it looks like a promotional poster, right? Wrong. That’s Rickey (the gigantic cod piece is a dead giveaway) two nights ago flying through the air thanks to the fiery mayhem transpiring behind him. The explosion in the background is thanks to some misbegotten madman who thought it would be cute to toss a grenade in the general direction of a warthog (Bungie, the game’s creator, likes to name their vehicles after surly animals for some reason). Add some doves to that picture and you’ve got yourself a John Woo movie. With angry robots.

How is this possible? Well, in one of the best gimmicks ever dreamed up, the game’s designers allow the user to watch videos of their previous matches from a free floating third person perspective and take high resolution screen grabs of all the action. Because really, the only thing better than bragging to your significant other what you just did to some poor fool online is actually showing them what you just did to some poor fool online. In super slow motion if you so desire. Besides, your girlfriend really didn’t want to watch “So You Think You Can Dance” last night anyway. That’s what Halo and/or your television’s parental controls are for.

And if the standard multiplayer fare of team deathmatch, capture the flag, and so on don’t catch your interest, other possibilities await. Let’s say you’re like Rickey and are feeling creative. So what do you do? You sculpt a map that allows you to drive a mongoose (that’s an ATV in the Halo universe) over a huge chasm while exploding barrels rain down from the heavens. Refer to the picture above for a glimpse of what Rickey was busy doing last night. Damn Rickey looks good in green. Suddenly, that annoying techie buzz phrase “user created content” sounds like an awful lot of fun, right? Given proper time and determination, Rickey could stage a production of “Madame Bovary” set in the Halo universe. Starring angry robots.

Just in case all those five word declarative sentences we used were unclear to you: this game is worth your money. Rickey plans on posting pictures of his online exploits (complete with fireballs!) until each and every one of his readers breaks down and buys an Xbox and a copy of Halo 3. And for those wondering, Rickey trimmed back his beard a little and has been smoke-free for a week now. So we’ve got that going for us too.

Monday, September 24, 2007

No, Rickey is not above posting pictures of cats with funny captions. We’re comedically amenable like that. Anyway, Rickey is going dark for the next few days and won't be posting (hence the picture). “Of the grid” isn’t the best phrase to describe it, but it’s the first that comes to mind. Blame it on this. See you folks in a few days. Possibly weeks.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Rickey’s not going to even discuss the Mets. If you’re really in need of some Mets banter, proceed here. Ryan McConnell sums the current situation up quite nicely.

Instead of ranting about the clusterfuck that is the National League East pennant race, Rickey will distract himself by focusing on other things. Like the hunt for obscure clothing items. Recently, Rickey decided he just didn’t have enough non-white t-shirts and figured for the betterment of his wardrobe, he’d remedy this situation. The art of t-shirt purchasing is a treacherous affair, and one’s choices range from your run of the mill product placements to your more obnoxiously retro/geeky fare. So Rickey had to choose what he wanted carefully: something simple, iconic & classic.

Rickey decided he wanted a Pan-Am t-shirt (a simple one, with the classic logo on the front). We find that it’s better to know exactly what you want before you go shopping—it makes finally discovering what you want oh so much sweeter. Actually locating this t-shirt proved to be a serious task, consuming a several evening hours last week, but Rickey finally got what he wanted. It wasn’t a quick process, but a company in the UK carried exactly what Rickey was searching for. Check it out. Pretty goddamned nifty, huh? Well worth the ridiculous exchange rates and several weeks wait while the item is shipped to the U.S. by boat.

Next up, Rickey has decided he wants a new watch. Something simultaneously formal and casual, and relatively inexpensive. Rickey settled upon a Swatch Icy Shine as the seemingly unattainable object of his desire. It’s funky, shiny, blue, and is a ridiculous 34 millimeters thin. Sadly, if you look at the link (which is primarily in Chinese) the watch, made in 2004, is no longer available. And so the hunt begins. We figure that the search for one of these is what will be occupying Rickey’s time for the next few days. Obsessing about odd things like this also serves as a terrific distraction from Rickey’s nicotine withdrawal symptoms by the way.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Remember when Rickey told you he had an announcement which would herald a major change in Rickey’s life? Well we’ve kept you in suspense long enough and the time has come for Rickey to make the aforementioned announcement. Rickey is quitting smoking. Mind blowing news, we know, just let it sink in slowly. Your reactions will most likely fall into one of the two categories:

"Well I didn’t even know you smoked in the first place so this news really means very little to me."

Or

"Way to wise up fucko. Nobel Prizes are handed out for decisions like this."

And this is exactly the kind of deep emotional impact we were shooting for. Indeed, effective tomorrow, Rickey will no longer smoke. What prompted this decision? Well there are a whole slew of reasons (the whole health thing, Ms. Henderson, cost savings, the social stigma of being a smoker, etc.) but the main reason that Rickey has decided to quit smoking can be traced back to a recent weekend in the Northern Neck of Virginia.

On an evening boat cruise for a wedding, Rickey finished up a cigarette and proceeded to flick it out off the deck. What Rickey didn’t account for was the wind blowing the cigarette back into the boat. Rickey watched in horror as the live cigarette slowly arced through the air, back towards the vessel, bounced off the awning, and then landed on a dinner table surrounded by wedding-goers, scattering sparks everywhere. Rickey damn near burned the boat down and risked floating down the Chesapeake Bay, clutching desperately to a floating piano.

Naturally, the thought of all this mortified Rickey. And Rickey doesn’t enjoy being mortified. So that’s essentially why he’s quitting. With the help of an intriguing new drug, Chantix!, Rickey will wean himself from his irksome tobacco habit. Yes, by switching from the tasty Philip Morris family of products to the blissful Pfizer family of products, Rickey is essentially trading one malicious corporation for another. But it’s the lesser of two evils, and it’s a strictly short term engagement. Assuming Rickey doesn’t strangle a co-worker with his bare hands out of irritability, this endeavor should be a fruitful one. And hey, best of all, kind of like the creepy beard thing, Rickey gets to blog about this too.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Football season is now upon us, and you know what that means: cooking up dishes with great indigestive potential. Rickey isn’t as big a football enthusiast as he is a baseball fan, but when it comes to cooking, he’s ready to rise to the occasion. Do you enjoy buffalo wings but feel like all those pesky bones are taking up valuable space that could be replaced by yet more buffalo sauce and chicken meat? Well then this quick & easy recipe is for you. Whether you’re a rabid fan in need of sustenance to fuel a grueling Sunday spent on the couch, or merely a hausfrau who just barely tolerates your significant other’s alarming fixation with watching grown men in tight pants tackle each other, we think you’ll find something in this recipe that appeals to you. Here’s what you’ll need:

You’ll want to kick things off by heating your oven up to 200° (Fahrenheit, not Celsius you pan-euro jackass). In a large bowl of your choosing, combine the breadcrumbs and chopped parsley. Then place the flour, beaten eggs, and breadcrumb mixture in three separate shallow bowls. Presto, you’ve got yourself a little assembly line going on.

*Note: If you’re the type who likes things very hot, add cayenne pepper to the flour mixture. For the next part of the operation, we suggest a little musical accompaniment. Raymond Scott’s “Powerhouse” should work nicely. Go ahead and tap your feet a little—music goes hand in hand with cooking.

One by one, dip the chicken tenders in the flour. Then dip them in the eggs. Then dip them in the breadcrumbs. It’s a regular factory assembly line! (See why Rickey picked out that song?) When you’re all done, place breaded chicken tenders on a large plate to await their oily fate. Next, heat a large frying pan over medium-high heat, and fill the bottom of the pan with a ½ inch of peanut oil. Unless you want your precious tenders sticking to the pan, make damn sure there’s a ½ inch of peanut oil in the pan at all time. Using your trusty cooking thermometer (you do have one of these, yes?) heat the oil to 350°.

To prevent a horrific scalding incident, a splatter guard is kind of a must for this recipe. When you’re feeling brave enough, add a few chicken strips (5 to 6) to the hot oil, and cook them until they’re nicely browned on one side. This should take about three minutes. Use tongs to turn the strips, and allow them to finish cooking, two to three minutes more. Remove the chicken from the pan, place the pieces on a baking sheet and season 'em with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Repeat this process for all the strips.

Put the finished chicken tenders in the oven to ensure they stay warm and crisp. Don’t stack them on top of each other—they’ll lose their crunchiness. We’d explain why this happens, but that would require a sextant, a master’s degree in Norse mythology, and a small woodland critter. Frankly, Rickey doesn’t have that kind of time on his hands.

Now on to the hot sauce: the heart of the recipe. Combine a ratio of 2 cups hot sauce to 4 tablespoons butter in a small saucepan, and bring the wondrous concoction to a simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally. When you’re ready to serve the awesomness, put the chicken tenders in a large bowl and pour the sauce over them. Toss 'em to coat all the pieces evenly, and serve them with that Marsetti's blue cheese that Rickey mentioned earlier. And enjoy. We think that you’ll find that the taste stacks up nicely to anything most buffalo wing joints create (except for The Candlelight Inn--those magnificent bastards are in a league of their own).

As far as beverage pairings go, you’ll want to drink something equally modest as this unassuming dish. Go with Sam Adams Light, it’s a stalwart friend that has never let Rickey down in the past. So maybe this wasn’t the most challenging or high brow recipe ever... But you’ll find that it pairs well with an entire Sunday spent watching football. Have no fear; Rickey’s working his way up to a soufflé recipe.

This is where Rickey posts recommendations of noteworthy consumables, practices, and pastimes that have been deemed invaluable for the reader’s betterment. All products and pieces of advice listed herein have been Rickey tested and approved. Again, this is in no way shape or form a complete rip off of McSweeney’s (fa-la-la-la-la, lawyers, Rickey can’t hear you). Enjoy this week’s installment of

RICKEY RECOMMENDS:

Actually posting a “Rickey Recommends” column with some regularity. Ha! How’s that for self-referential wittiness? Anyway, our apologies: being a total moonbat, Rickey has been remiss in updating this section and will strive for regularity in the future.

Heroes. Rickey and Ms. Henderson just caught up with the first season and can report that this show is definitely worth your time. For a program about a group of super powered individuals, Heroes displays a surprising amount of emotional impact as well as some terrific wit. Just give it a shot: Rickey promises that this show will have you getting a little misty, chuckling, or flat out cheering out loud. You know, everything that 24 has dropped the ball on in recent seasons…

Not exposing your testicles during group photos for a wedding. It’s just common sense really, especially if you’re the brother of the groom. But in the guy’s defense, this was absolutely hilarious at the time.

Donating blood. Yes, it’s a wonderfully charitable and important thing to do, but more importantly they provide you with free cookies and juice when you’re done. As well as vacation time and even free baseball tickets in some cases. All this for a mere pint of blood? Oy gevalt, what a bargain!

Picking up the new Dropkick Murphys album. Who cares if it’s not even on store shelves until the 18th? That wouldn’t stop a person like you now would it? Pour yourself something Irish and intoxicating, listen to the album, and then go pick a fight with your landlady. You’ll thank us in the morning.

Going apple picking. If for no other reason than it allows you to quote Ned Flanders: “You know, most people don't know the difference between apple cider and apple juice, but I do. Now here's a little trick to help you remember. If it's clear and yella', you've got juice there, fella. If it's tangy and brown, you're in cider town!”

Picking up Halo 3 at a midnight release event on September 25th. Not a gamer? Well bully for you then. You’ve still heard of this beloved & innovative franchise we assume, and suffice to say, there’s a pretty good reason it has grossed over $600 million—more money than pretty much any Hollywood movie ever made.

Not attending a Florida Marlins game anytime soon. By Rickey’s math, 74,600 empty seats at Dolphins Stadium means that only 400 people attended the Marlins/Nationals game on Wednesday. Ouch. (This would have been a prime opportunity for all you hecklers down in Florida however). How comfortable are we that the Marlins are a two time World Series winning team?

Tea Tree Shampoo by Paul Mitchell. Running low on things to advocate, Rickey has resorted to glancing around his shower and recommending whatever items catch his eye. It was a toss up between recommending the shampoo or “not cleaning your shower tiles until an unsightly amount of soap scum materializes.” So we went with the shampoo instead. Seriously though, despite being pricey it’s terrific stuff. Using it makes your hair all tingly and whatnot, leaving you feeling quite rejuvenated and awake. And really, who can put a price tag on suddenly feeling alert at 6:30 in the morning? (This shampoo also works well on beards by the way).

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Shalom motherfuckers. In case you missed it, last night Shawn Greene knocked in the winning run on the first night of RoshHashanah. If that doesn’t qualify him for “Mensch of the Week,” well we just don’t know what does. Look, we created this “Mensch of the Week” shtick primarily with Green in mind. Then we sat and waited for him to do something noteworthy. And then we waited some more. And lo and behold, the day has finally come! And of all nights for this to happen, it occurs last night, the first night of the High Holy Days?! Sweet fancy Moses. Way to ring in the Jewish New Year Greenie!

With a little help from Carlo’s Beltran’s expert base running, Shawn Green did the unthinkable: he delivered a win that capped off two seasons of the MetsNOT having a losing record against the Atlanta Braves. For those keeping score at home, this has not happened since 1988. How terrific is it that Green absolutely owns John Smoltz? And as Green hammered in the final nail in Atlanta’s coffin, we’re left with the happy knowledge that the Mets are on the cusp of clinching the N.L. East for the second consecutive time. In Mets history, this is something that has not happened since… well ever.

You don’t have to be a tribesman to appreciate the awesomeness of last night’s game winning hit (in fact; Rickey prefers to celebrate the Fiscal New Year, July 1st, over all the other varieties of new years). If anyone has audio of Steve Sommers’ WFAN broadcast following the game, please please please email this to Rickey. We’re assuming it was downright jewtacular, and contained the repeated use of the appellation “The Hebrew Hammer.”

*Update: the link to the Steve Sommers audio can be found here, under the 9/12 date, and yes, it's everything we had hoped for. Many thanks Toasty Joe.

Rickey will be in attendance to see Pedro take the mound this Saturday and you damn well know Shea will be literally rocking. Until Guillermo Mota trots out of the bullpen anyway… Then Rickey might proceed to hang himself from the Mezzanine railing. We’ll post pictures of the entire experience next week.

Also, look for an announcement in the coming days heralding a major change in Rickey’s life (no Mom, Rickey’s doesn’t like men now—pull your head out of the oven). For now, we’ll leave you in suspense as to what aforementioned change will be…. Here’s a hint: it’s something Rickey can blog about.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Disclaimer: Rickey pilfered the witty title for this post from a conversation from Adam, who in turn had pilfered the idea from a Sean Connery line in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, so we really don’t feel too bad about the whole pilfering thing. No royalties are coming Adam—don’t bother asking.

So of course Rickey’s return to Yankee Stadium would occur during arguably the most important game of the Yanks’ season. A game that left the Yankees three games up in the AL wildcard race and firmly in control of their destiny. Would it have been too much to ask for the Mariners to put up somewhat of a fight? Talk about rolling over and dying…

Papa Henderson wisely decided against sporting a Mariner’s cap to the game, while Rickey, in further hopes of avoiding heckling, wore one of Ms. Henderson’s ambulatory school t-shirts. Because really, who would be spiteful enough to heckle a guy wearing an ambulance corps t-shirt? Well we’ll tell you: Yankee fans, that’s who. Every slight smile or subdued fist pump Rickey expressed at the Mariner’s early lead was met with murmurs of “asshoooole” from the Bronx faithful sitting behind him. And these folks were definitely the cream of the crop as far as obnoxious Yankee fans go. We'd post a few of their quotes and chants, but they were too crass, bigoted, and offensive, even by Rickey's standards.

When they weren’t loudly bragging to each other about ridiculous sexual conquests at mediocre schools for troglodytes such as Lehigh or Bucknell, they were discussing which famous Yankee they’d most like to be. The consensus seemed to be Mickey Mantle, primarily for his philandering and alcohol consumption. Brilliant idea fuckos—idolize a guy whose reckless years of hard drinking destroyed his baseball career, his psyche, his family life, and ultimately necessitated him carrying around a spare liver in a fanny pack at all times. In all fairness, however, the other Yanks fans in the bleacher area weren’t as bad as these misanthropes.

From what Rickey gathered, a game at Yankees stadium is a decidedly somber affair, punctuated by bombastic patriotic music and excruciatingly loud heavy metal songs. And once the Yankees get rolling, literally all hell breaks loose. We’d like to briefly pause and thank the Yankee Stadium management for not allowing beer in the left field bleacher section. Not that Shea Stadium doesn’t attract a fair share of boorish fans (it does) but generally, they’re not as misogynistic and bigoted as the Yanks fans sitting behind Rickey last night. And yes, a game at Shea is loud too, but in a lively and festive sort of way. A game in the Bronx feels more like a funeral dirge that at any given moment could break out into a scene from "Triumph of the Will."

Well what about the game itself you’re probably asking? Well, Rickey spent most of the game keeping his head down and eating a large bag of peanuts (shelling peanuts distracted Rickey from the fact that Yankee Stadium doesn’t have a designated smoking area). But Rickey did witness Joba Chamberlain giving a lights out performance: hurling 100 mph fastballs and 90 mph sliders. On the Mariners side, Jarrod Washburn pitched a solid 6 innings until giving up a home run to A-Rod to tie the game at 2-2.

Then things went south. George Sherrill trotted out of the Mariners bullpen and promptly proceeded to walk the bases loaded. And then some jackass named Sean Green walked Jorge Posada to force in the go-ahead run. Seeing the writing on the wall, Rickey and Papa Henderson collected their belongings and left. Sorry, sitting amidst that crowd for an 8 run inning just wasn’t Rickey’s cup of tea. And Papa Henderson can now say that he has seen a baseball game at Yankee Stadium.

Anyhow, below are a few additional pictures Rickey snapped of the game. Pay close attention to the images of Jarrod Washburn warming up: if you look carefully, you can see the members of the Mariners bullpen comparing notes on how to totally ruin a fine outing by a starting pitcher. Rickey is off tomorrow for a trip down to Virginia to attend a wedding in which the groom has pledged to throw Rickey off a boat amidst the festivities. Fantastic. Enjoy the weekend folks.

As you can see, the seats were pretty much located in the parking lot.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man”-Much Ado About Nothing

Well said indeed. Rickey’s just going to defer to the Bard from now on for his inspirational beard quotes. And no, that’s not a lighting trick, there’s actually some red in Rickey’s beard. We’re not entirely sure how this happened, but turning back now would mean forfeiting awesome nicknames such as “Firebeard,” “Rusty,” or “Gimli.” This is not an opportunity Rickey intends to pass up.

Did we mention that thanks to the beard, Rickey no longer gets carded when purchasing his alcohol? This is indeed good news for a 27 year old with a formerly boyish looking face. Even better was Rickey’s recent discovery that his local salon offers a package known as “manscaping” which includes a manicure, haircut and beard trim. But as you can see, we’re not quite at the point of needing to trim it just yet. Most beard growing gurus recommend waiting a minimum of 6 to 8 weeks before trimming one’s whiskers.

And with that quick update, Rickey is off to the Bronx this evening to watch the Mariners play the Yankees. The AL Wild Card, Papa Henderson’s sanity, and the fate of the nation all hang in the balance.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Yeah, we know, we couldn't think of anything witty... Anyway, courtesy of Murray Chass of the NYTimes, here’s your uplifting quote of the day:

The Mets continued yesterday to show the character the Yankees only wish they had.

Sums things up quite nicely if you ask us. How good is it to see Pedro Martinez return and pitching a solid five innings? And just how seriously screwed are you if Mike Mussina is trotting out of the Yankee bullpen to relieve an ailing Roger Clemens? Couple those facts with the Braves and Phillies simultaneously imploding over the past few days, and you’re left with the realization that it was indeed a good weekend for Mets fans.

Rickey is going to a Mets/Phillies game on September 15th and is now much less concerned about that game having playoff ramifications. Sorry if Rickey’s exuberant optimism comes across as a jinx for you superstitious baseball fans out there, but that’s how Rickey rolls. The possibility of ending a road trip that included a 4 game sweep by the Phillies with a .500 win percentage is quite a feat when you think about it. Now if the Mets can just string together five consecutive wins (no team has ever made the playoffs without doing so) everything will be hunky dory.

In other baseball news, Rickey is taking his father (for the sake of continuity, let’s call him “Papa Henderson.”) to a Yanks/Mariners game this Wednesday. The thinking here is that despite his intense hatred for all things Yankee related, Papa Henderson should still see a baseball game in the Bronx before the stadium is closed for good. Seriously, you have no idea just how much this man despises the Yanks: on any given day, his favorite non-Mets team is whoever is opposing the Bronx Bombers. He watches the Yanks solely to root against them, and there’s a very good chance he’ll show up wearing a Mariners cap on Wednesday. The open-minded Yankees fans in the left field bleacher section should be amenable to this sort of thing, right?

A Brief Rickey Primer

Rickey is taking a timeout from touring the globe to perform his creation, "The Interpretive Dance of the Electrons," in order to devote his time to the discussion of more essential matters. These topics include (but are not limited to) meerkats, W2 forms, the joy of model railroading, all things Jack Bauer related, thrilling new developments in the world of soybeans, and the 2008 Mets pitching rotation. Assuming you’re not intimidated by the intellectual firepower of these diverse and stimulating issues, we invite you to read on.